This is a song about "Your so pritty"

Your girl i'm fisting so stop your bitching

Bobbing and weaving, spiritual hymn singing

Like a church in debt

Your raps are so brain dead

So with your mind left exploded

I was born back, wolf pack, nigga fuck that

Your lyres are cheat so hold your pen open your book-let

Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit

So moisten all your folds

Clips in the play clothes

We don't ever make love

So im calling your bluff

Back down, backing ultra dreams like some bad sleep

Your waiste so petite then your hips so elite

So here are your instructions

Fuck, clean up on aisle six